


give a little, get a lot

by figure8



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Deepthroating, Frottage, Kinktober, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, honestly it's more feelings with porn but WHATEVER, is "emo blowjob" a tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: This is how Junmyeon likes him best.





	give a little, get a lot

**Author's Note:**

> i'm trying my hand at kinktober this year but i'm honestly too busy to promise anything so we'll see i guess 
> 
> hope you guys enjoy this even though it's TERRIBLE.  
> for day 1: deep-throating. title from power & control by marina and the diamonds because i am the person that i am

There’s nothing more beautiful than Yifan on his knees, lips red and glistening and stretched around Junmyeon’s cock, Junmyeon’s to take, Junmyeon’s to _use;_ shaking already as he relaxes his throat, taking Junmyeon deeper, eyelashes fluttering from the effort.

“You look so pretty, baby,” Junmyeon breathes out, and Yifan moans, the vibration going straight to Junmyeon’s groin. He tilts his hips up carefully and Yifan _whimpers,_ unshed tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he gags a little, but he keeps going, he takes it so well, and Junmyeon sinks into the wet velvety heat of his throat, in and out, _in and out._ “So good,” Junmyeon continues, and Yifan keens at the praise, “Always so fucking good for me.”

One of Junmyeon’s hands has wormed its way into Yifan’s hair now, dragging him easily up and down Junmyeon’s length, the rhythm punishing, Yifan so pliant, so sweet, always so _open,_ and Junmyeon feels something in his chest that’s too tender to be desire, like a fist encircling his heart, tight tight _tight_ and too real. And that’s new, maybe, or maybe it’s always been this way and that’s exactly why Junmyeon didn’t know about it; a subterranean kind of want, slow and solid like the building of an earthquake, less like the hurricane Junmyeon is used to whenever he and Yifan touch. It’s still urgent, still _pressing,_ the need to _claim;_ but the warmth that travels up his body feels like molten gold, and it is steady.

Yifan’s nose is pressed to his pelvis, and Junmyeon keeps him there, grip too rough on his black locks as he fucks Yifan’s throat, and the tears are rolling down his cheeks now but Yifan looks blissed out when Junmyeon finally releases him, lets him catch his breath. He coughs and Junmyeon swipes his thumb across his slick bottom lip, admiring.

“You look ruined, baby,” he says, reverent, but what he means is _you look mine,_ and Yifan knows it, gets it, understands that he holds Junmyeon in the palm of his hand, too. It’s a game of tug and war, only everyone’s the winner—everyone’s the loser. “You get on your knees for anyone else, Yifan?”

Yifan shakes his head, pulls away from Junmyeon’s touch to nuzzle at his cock, beautiful, _wanting,_ and precome streaks his cheek, a pearly mark as he answers “No,” voice hoarse and broken, “Only you, only you.”

And there’s knowing and _knowing,_ there’s rationality and then there’s the fire inside Junmyeon’s ribcage, the drive, the kind of force that scares him sometimes, the kind of want that leaves him trembling, staring down at his own hands. And this time when Yifan takes him in his mouth again Junmyeon cups his jaw tenderly, lets him find his own pace, lets him give and take and give and _take,_ because this is what they do—this is what they have.

When Yifan looks up, and their eyes meet, and the tense wire in Junmyeon’s belly starts uncoiling, what he sees he cannot quite put words on, and it undoes him, it leaves him heaving, breathless; and the dancing white dots coloring his vision turn into shooting stars.

Yifan swallows it, sucks him dry, mouth working until Junmyeon can’t take it anymore, has to retreat. And then Yifan’s long body slithers up his, covers him, and he mashes their mouths together, kisses him deep and hard and _deep,_ like sharing smoke, like sharing oxygen. He’s rutting on Junmyeon’s thigh, almost there but not quite, desperate and wanton and so, so worked up just from sucking Junmyeon’s cock, and Junmyeon whispers _come on baby, come on,_ sliding his palms up Yifan’s sides, and that’s all it takes, and Yifan sobs and comes on Junmyeon’s pale skin, shaking, spent, floating.

And the afterglow, the easiness of his smiles, that’s how Junmyeon likes him best, that’s when they’re at their most honest, skin to skin, breath rapid and shallow but slowly calming down. That’s when Junmyeon is at his most raw, and the words threaten to spill, and Junmyeon doesn’t know what to do with them, all these sentences that sound too much like admissions, like confessions, like pleas, like _stay with me forever_ and _love me love me fuck me keep me love me back._

Yifan closes his eyes, buries his face into the crook of Junmyeon’s neck, like a happy cat, like a lover.

Junmyeon kisses his temple, thinks, _tomorrow, I’ll tell him tomorrow,_ and misses the way Yifan’s heart skips a beat.


End file.
